The Worst timing
by LostExploring
Summary: they have the worst timing:"Kate's on her way over and you'd better not have any blonde bimbos there when she arrives." Castle gulps, looking through the crack in the door to his office at the woman perched on his desk. Post 47 Seconds, Pre – Always. One Shot


"Kate's on her way over and you'd better not have any blonde bimbos there when she arrives." Castle gulps, looking through the crack in the door to his office at the woman perched on his desk. Post 47 Seconds, Pre – Always. One Shot

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I should be typing up clinical reports instead of this.

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**The Worst Timing**

His phone beeped. With an apologetic grin, he shifted in his seat, working his fingers into his pocket to pull it out.

Text message from Lanie:

**You're an idiot.**

Straight to the point. He would expect nothing less. With a grin, he typed out his response.

**Incorrect – registered voter.**

Her response was seconds later.

**I stand corrected. You're an ass.**

He blinked at the message, leaning back in his chair.

**I haven't even been there this week.**

It was pathetic. Even he could hear the whine in the message, but honestly he had no idea where this was coming from. He'd begged off this week, sighting meetings with his publishers as his reason, and while that was partly true, he really couldn't take playing indifferent around Beckett for a stretch of time longer than about 3 minutes. He wasn't an ass. He was a coward. If Lanie insisted on choosing farmyard animals, he was a chicken.

"Are you listening to me?" a sharp voice cut through his thoughts.

"Of course." He murmured, distractedly glancing up to meet the skeptical gaze of the blonde perched on the corner of his desk. Her heel tapped against the bottom drawer as she narrowed ice blue eyes at him before sighing.

"Tomorrow night, I…"

His phone beeped again.

**Every time she finds the courage to tell you, you come in with some bimbo.**

"Wha…?" he exclaimed, thoroughly confused now.

"Rick!" The blonde slammed the pen she'd been fiddling with down on his desk. She leaned forward, cleavage peeking further out of her V-necked shirt.

"Yeah. You, me, dinner. Tomorrow night. Six o'clock. Ferrari." He acknowledged, glancing back at his phone as another message came in:

**She's on her way over.**

Wait. Courage to..? Tell him what? There's only been one girl he's brought around since this summer. Every time? It sounded like Lanie was counting Gina, too.

Standing up too fast, he sent his chair crashing into the wall. "I'll…" he swallowed. "Excuse me a moment."

Stepping into his bedroom, he nudged the door shut with his shoulder, leaving it cracked open as he pulled his phone to his ear. After the first ring, there was a click.

"What the hell, Lanie?" he hissed before she had a chance to say anything, keeping his voice low, mindful of the audience on the other side of the door.

"Last chance, Writer Boy. You'd better not have any brainless blondes there when Kate arrives." Lanie shot back at him.

His eyes snapped to the gap in his door, watching as his ex-wife slid off his desk to pace before his windows, running her manicured fingers through her short, very blonde hair. Gina was far from brainless, but he doubted Lanie would understand.

"What do you mean, 'tell me'?" he demanded, but there was an unmistakable rapping on his front door before she could answer.

"Never mind. I have to…" he hung up, sliding his phone back in his pocket, striding through his office and entryway. Pausing at his door, he tried to gather his thoughts before tugging it open to a pale-faced Kate Beckett.

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She managed to make it from Lanie's all the way to his building and into the elevator before doubts started to crowd into her brain, and now, standing in front of his door, blood coursing with Tequila and adrenaline, she couldn't stop her hands from shaking.

Gulping in air, she swayed on her feet, trying not to hyperventilate. With one last burst of courage, she pounded on the familiar door. The sound calmed her nerves. From inside, she could hear shuffling, his office door opening. It felt like forever between the time his footsteps stopped on the other side of the door and the door clicking open.

And then she couldn't breathe at all. The punch of seeing him after a week of absence left her reeling.

Black dress socks poked their way out from under his tailored black slacks. Realizing she was staring at the floor, his feet and hers, she dragged her eyes up his crimson dress shirt was untucked and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He brought a hand up to scrub across his face. She followed the movement up to meet his eyes.

A swirl of emotions, confusion, hurt… hope? were locked behind a façade of indifference.

"Kate?" he prompted after the silence had drawn out between them.

Steady, steady, she thought as his voice washed over her.

Now or never.

If she chickened out now, she'd never try again. Her stomach churned.

She was going to throw up.

On his doorstep.

Throw up and run away. Like a sick Jr. High prank.

And then it wouldn't matter if he ever came back to the precinct because she wouldn't be able to face him anyways.

He was watching her, studying her as if he wasn't sure what to do with her, waiting for some sort of reply.

"I love you." She blurted out, almost more to end the horrible gaping silence between them than anything else.

Done.

Okay.

Was running away still an option? Because she didn't know what came next, and from his expression, neither did he.

He rocked back on his heels, jaw slack, the movement pulling the door further open. His eyes searched her face with an intensity that terrified her – the look from the cemetery.

The silence became too much for her, the disbelief etched into every line of his face. "I heard you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to say it back, but I couldn't, and I couldn't stay with you and then everything went black and every time I think about it, every time I hear it, I see you and smell blood and roses and I can't, I can't…" she was having a panic attack and choked on the words.

"I can't lose you. I can't have you fade out again. I wanted to stay with you, wanted to call you. Rick…" she couldn't force the words out anymore.

"Kate." He managed. It sounded like he couldn't catch his breath either, voice choked.

And was he crying? She couldn't tell through the blur in her eyes.

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"Rick?" a voice cut through their silence, followed by the professional heel-toe click of heels against hardwood. "Do you know where…" she paused as she saw them.

Kate gasped in a breath, and then exhaled it all in a flow of rushed words. "Oh! Oh… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. Just forget. Just…" she turned on her heel.

.

She loved him. And was panicking, but that was okay, because KB was on his doorstep being honest and open, actually showing her emotions – was panic an emotion? And it gave him time to keep his heart from pounding straight through his sternum.

She loved him.

"Kate." He finally gasped out, voice rough.

Images of her bleeding out played through his mind.

There was a noise from behind him and Kate went ridged a moment before he heard his name. And Kate was turning. Leaving.

No. No, no, no, no, no… His hand shot out before he had a chance to think, wrapping itself around her wrist, clamping tight as she tugged against it.

"Wait." He growled.

Turning, he faced the woman emerging from his office, a glass of wine held delicately between long fingers. She looked over them, her dark red lips pressed together.

"Is this something I should know about?" she asked, tone clipped.

"No." Rick ground out, glaring at her for her intrusion.

Behind him, he heard Kate gasp, felt her flinch and then struggle against his grip. His fingers clenched reflexively. Probably leave bruises.

He stared down the woman before him, taking in her dark gray suit with its knee-length pencil skirt, dark strappy heels, red toe nails matching her blouse and lipstick. Her eye make-up was dark and smoky and her dark brown hair was pulled up into a severe bun.

She leveled a look at him that ordinarily would make him cringe.

He swallowed hard, making a snap decision. "I need to go. Emergency came up. Do you think you can finish without me?" he asked in a rush.

"You know most of my preferences, and I trust you on the rest." He continued when she nodded.

"Of course." She responded, a slight smile gentling her expression at the implied compliment.

"I want to go to Comicon this year. I finally have the excuse with the graphic novel. Houston, maybe. And can you leave a copy of the marked up contract on my desk? I need to look over it before our meeting with Andrew and his lawyers." He could feel Kate relax behind him as she realized he was wrapping up a business meeting as fast as he could.

He paused to catch his breath. "Thanks, Paula." He added when she nodded.

"Can you tell Alexis when you and Gina leave so she can lock up behind you?" he was practically fidgeting now, needing to leave, needing to talk to Kate, but not here, not with his ex-wife a room away.

"I'll take care of it, Rick." Paula assured.

"Great." He turned to leave, tugging Kate after him.

"Oh, and Rick?" she called after him.

He looked over his shoulder.

"It's easier to keep it out of the papers if I know about it first."

He let the first of a grin. "I'll keep that in mind. Call you tomorrow."

He dragged Kate out of his apartment, unsure where he was taking her. Just away. Private. He ended up pulling her into the stairwell and half a flight up to the roof access. He crowded her into the cinderblocks before releasing her.

"I'm not going to forget it." He growled at her, eyes dancing as his body pushed into hers. "You can't take it back."


End file.
